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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.

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In the concrete walls of the shantytowns, A young rose cracked through the cordons. The rose encountered a thorn, That perforated through its petals, To deflower and plant a seed, Of lust, love and tear buds. A thorn and a rose, Became inseparable. As the rose wandered for its own light, The thorn felt deserted; For in the wild of tamed passions, That rose was all it ever knew. Eventually change won, As it is wont to. So I was abandoned, At the clemency of taciturn night falls. No more melody, But hanged-up phone calls, Un-replied text messages, And chilly nights, At the veranda. As Maersk shipping drivers, Stopped by to cuddle prostitutes, I smoked cigarettes with them, And listened to the crickets. I couldn’t sleep in that bed, Where you- My rose- Used to lay, And intoxicate me, With wet tongue tips, Throbbing my ears; With wet whispers. Sometimes we went out into the night naked, To cool our bodies in the night breeze. I would then light a cigarette, And blow ashes to the crickets, As your cold hard nipples, Pricked my back. Years later, I quit smoking, And walking at night, For both cigarettes and crickets, Remind me, Of your fire, And nights we made love, Until my thorn, And your rose, Grew bristles. I still have that blemish, On my penis, Where you bit me, As you tried to give me, An amateurish blow job. ©Wudz, '14

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Cigarettes and Crickets

In the concrete walls of the shantytowns, A young rose cracked through the cordons. The rose encountered a thorn, That perforated through its petals, To deflower and plant a seed, Of lust, love and tear buds. A thorn and a rose, Became inseparable. As the rose wandered for its own light, The thorn felt deserted; For in the wild of tamed passions, That rose was all it ever knew. Eventually change won, As it is wont to. So I was abandoned, At the clemency of taciturn night falls. No more melody, But hanged-up phone calls, Un-replied text messages, And chilly nights, At the veranda. As Maersk shipping drivers, Stopped by to cuddle prostitutes, I smoked cigarettes with them, And listened to the crickets. I couldn’t sleep in that bed, Where you- My rose- Used to lay, And intoxicate me, With wet tongue tips, Throbbing my ears; With wet whispers. Sometimes we went out into the night naked, To cool our bodies in the night breeze. I would then light a cigarette, And blow ashes to the crickets, As your cold hard nipples, Pricked my back. Years later, I quit smoking, And walking at night, For both cigarettes and crickets, Remind me, Of your fire, And nights we made love, Until my thorn, And your rose, Grew bristles. I still have that blemish, On my penis, Where you bit me, As you tried to give me, An amateurish blow job. ©Wudz, '14